View from the Eagle's Nest
by Jubalii
Summary: On a rainy day, Seras gets permission to take one book out of Sir Integra's personal, "restricted" library. Knowing that she'll be severely reprimanded if Alucard knows she has the book, she begins to read in secret before bed- an act that comes with strange and amazing consequences.
1. Consequences of a Rainy Day

**Author's Note**: I know, I know. You're all saying it.

**"Juju, why are you churning out new stories when old ones stay unfinished? I mean, Hetalia oneshots are fine, but full-on **_**stories**_**?"**

(._. ) Trust me, I know.

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><p>Seras sighed, her head in her hands as she gazed out the window at the rain pouring down outside. The grounds were deserted, apart from a soldier or two running to the men's barracks with their arms over their head, as if that would keep them from getting any wetter. The streetlights light the darkness, their luminescence spotlights turning raindrops into sparkling jewels as they bounced like rubber on the pavement. It wasn't normal that rain poured this way in England. Usually, "rain" consisted of a drizzle that would be laughable in other countries.<p>

Seras was lounging in the parlor, her nose stuck to the window as she kneeled on a cushioned divan under the sill. She watched the rainy night outside, a growing sense of unease gnawing at her insides. She knew why she was restless—she could feel the full moon above the clouds and she longed to be bathed in its gentle light. But sadly, she wouldn't be able to venture outside tonight.

Rolling off the divan, she left the drafty parlor and trudged down the hall, dragging her feet. Why bother with hurrying? There was nothing to do. The indoor range was full to the brim of soldiers, there was no reason to go to the mess hall and stare at food she couldn't eat, and the men's barracks were off limits to her, even if she was their captain.

Besides, she didn't have anyone to talk to on this cold, bleary night. Walter and Alucard were busy in the weapon's forge, crafting some new design all their own. She supposed that she could go and watch, but the forge was boring to her and she didn't really share Walter's love for weapon-crafting. The men were busy gambling their paychecks away; the ones in the gun range were already broke, otherwise they'd have been in the barracks as well.

She passed by the large double doors that led to Sir Integra's office. She paused in front of them, shuffling her feet and eyeing the square shapes that were cut into the wooden surface. She finally made a decision and raised a hand to the door. She hesitated a moment longer before rapping three times and waiting.

"Enter," said the heiress, and Seras opened the door and shimmied into the office. She looked around; Walter usually brought her missions in the form of manila envelopes and she turned the post-operation reports in to the front desk, so there was rarely a reason for her to come into Sir Integra's office. She knew her master had a habit of showing up in there, but she wasn't her master and she _really _wasn't close enough with her boss to just show up uninvited.

The office was sparse, with minimal décor and a rather gloomy look. A few bookshelves stood against the far wall, their bodies stuffed with papers and notebooks of past reports. Replicas of famous paintings hung on the walls. The only large piece of furniture was the giant desk. The desk was packed so high with papers that the wooden surface was nowhere to be seen. Integra sat in a tiny cleared off section amidst the mountains of paperwork, scribbling away on memos and smoking her ever-present cigar.

"Are you going to stand there all day, Agent Victoria? Or is there something I can help you with?" Seras opened her mouth, almost smarting off that it wasn't daytime. But she snapped her lips shut just in time, scolding herself for becoming too much like her sarcastic master.

"Well, I was hoping that you had something that _I_ could help _you _with. You seem pretty busy as it is," Seras answered slowly. She still wasn't sure where she stood with the human at the desk. She knew that Sir Integra hadn't trusted her a bit when she first arrived, but she held onto a fragment of hope that the woman would warm up to her once she learned that Seras wasn't going to go crazy and just slaughter her own men or something. _Then again, _Seras thought, _maybe she just acts this way with everyone. _

Integra looked up and narrowed her eyes slightly, looking intently at the girl in front of her. Seras tried not to fidget under her gaze, staring back at her vacantly. "If you don't have… I mean, I can come back later… urm."

"Agent Victoria, I doubt you can help me with this paperwork, unless you're an expert at forging my signature. If you're bored, go read a book." With that she turned back to her work, silently dismissing her.

"I would, if I hadn't already read most of them. All the ones in English, anyway. Even the boring ones." And she had. Because Alucard rarely sought her company and only happened to meet up with her if he saw fit to correct something she'd been doing; she had a lot of spare time on her hands. More often than not, she found herself drawn to the books in the large library. Most of them were in strange languages, but she found and devoured an entire section of books written in English. And she'd learned a lot of interesting things about science and alchemy and even vague topics like demonology.

Integra seemed to hear the truth in her words and sighed, finally putting down her pen. She opened a side drawer and pulled out a tiny key ring. She flipped through the keys before handing one over the desk to Seras.

"On the second floor corridor, there's a locked door. This key opens it; it's the restricted library." Integra eyed her a moment longer before pursing her lips. "On the main table, there are three books in a stack. The topmost one has a symbol not unlike the ones on Alucard's gloves. Bring me the three books; and if you like, pick out a book to read from the shelves. _A _book, Miss Victoria. It's restricted for a reason; those are very important documents in there." Seras nodded dutifully and backed away, her heart jumping. She'd been promoted to "Miss Victoria" now. It'd be no time before they'd all be calling her Seras.

* * *

><p>The key turned slowly in the lock, and Seras made sure that it didn't break off accidently in there before she stepped through and closed the door. Something in the room made her feel like she was a rebel, breaking the rules even though she had permission to be in the library. It was clear to see that these books were not used often.<p>

In a glass case along the far end, parchment scrolls and a tapestry hung. She walked over to look at the tapestry, admiring the gold embossed letters. She couldn't read the words, but she had enough sense to know that they were Latin. The emblem was the same as her Master's gloves, and it looked like the tapestry outlines the use of the different runes decorating the circles around the edges.

Finally, she turned away from the fascinating work of art and located the three books Sir Integra had asked for. Putting the keys on top of them, she turned and began to peruse the shelves for something to read.

Surprisingly, most of the books were in English, if not a bit dated. There were books on medicine, ancient rites, history, geography, Europe, medieval times, the Black Death, and so much more. She took her time looking over the spines, occasionally grabbing one and flipping through the pages. She was about to take one on cultures of the Mediterranean when she spotted a section close to the ground that called to her. Putting the book back in a place that she'd remember it, she bent down and discovered that it was an entire bottom shelf on nothing but vampires.

She had wondered where the vampire books were. She knew that Hellsing had to have had them somewhere; this wasn't any silly Draculaor romanticized bullshit, this was the real deal. Pulling out a few books, she realized that van Helsing himself had written a good many of them. Some weren't even in print; the man's handwriting flowed across the pages. She found a book on the known powers of Nosferatu and stood up, ready to leave.

She lost her balance trying to stand and grabbed the bookshelf blindly for support. Luckily the thing didn't fall, but a single book toppled down. Apparently it had been sitting between the top of the shelf and the ceiling, far out of Seras' reach. She picked it up, frowning as she tried to figure out how to put it back where it came from. She dusted off the front cover with her shirt, looking at the image on the front. It was a woodblock from some ancient time, showing a man with a beard eating dinner and watching something.

Removing the dust entirely, Seras realized with a shock that the man was watching people die… on poles. Poles through their stomachs, poles through their bodies, poles coming from their mouths…. It was disgusting. "The Impaler," she said softly, reading the title. She didn't want to see any more gross pictures, but her morbid curiosity got the best of her and she flipped to the first chapter. She scanned the first page, realizing that it was a historical account of some man. She read out loud, trying to sound out the strange syllables on her tongue.

"Prince Vlad the third of the House of Drăcu- Drăculeşti, also known by his patronymic name, Vlad Dr—" She stopped, a cold shiver running down her spine. "Vlad Dracula." She slammed the book shut, her unbeating heart jumping into her throat. "Master." It was a book about Dracula. Her master. When he was a _human_. She looked down at the book, at the image on the front. She should put it back. She should pick up her vampire book and leave. She should, but she couldn't. Not when the information was there, in front of her.

She put the vampire book back, sticking The Impaler under Integra's stack of books before locking the door back and scurrying down the hall. She knew that if Alucard ever saw her reading the book about him, he'd be beyond livid. But it was a risk she was willing to take, if it would shed some light on the man behind the amber sunglasses.


	2. A Frightening Encounter!

To keep Alucard from seeing her, Seras decided to begin reading the book after the sun rose. Knowing that her master usually went to bed between 6 and 7 a.m., she felt that she would be safe once he was asleep. Besides, he didn't bother with her much; any secret reading on her part would most likely go under his radar, unless he suddenly decided that he wanted to spend all of his time with her. _That _was highly improbable, as Walter liked to say.

So after she mucked around some more and watched the rain end shortly before sunrise, she began to make her way slowly to the basement. She stopped to say hello to Walter as he came downstairs to begin his morning tasks. Asking him about his newest playtoy, she let him talk her ear off about weaponry and ballistics and other rather mundane things. After about fifteen minutes, he excused himself on the grounds of being late and she had to hide a smile. She knew that asking him about guns would allow her to waste some time, because that was the one hobby that Walter was truly passionate about.

She leisurely traipsed down the long flight of stairs to the basement, looking around at the drab scenery. Now that she was eating her dinners instead of throwing them across the room, she was able to see much better in the gloomy darkness that hung over all the basement hallways. For the first time, she really looked at the plethora of doors that went to places she hadn't explored yet. She had no idea what was hidden in the caverns of Hellsing manor, but from looking at the library's blueprints she knew that a dissection lab and torture chamber were just a few of the more macabre rooms.

"Looking for something?" A chill ran up her spine and she spun on her heel to see Alucard leaning against the wall behind her. For a moment, she gaped like a fish before she realized that she had no reason to look for an excuse. She had every right to be down there as anyone else; she lived there, for Pete's sake!

"Just wandering a bit. It was raining, so I couldn't go train and… I'm not tired just yet," she finished lamely, feeling a blush crawl up her cheeks as she stood before him. He grinned slightly, the dim light glinting off wet fangs while shadows danced across his face.

"What you call wandering others may view as snooping, Police Girl." So that was it. He thought she was meddling in things that she shouldn't. She felt her face become even warmer and barely kept her hands from balling into fists. She couldn't help but feel that he treated her like a child, instead of a young woman.

"Walking down the hallway isn't snooping; besides, my motto is "If you don't want anyone to see, lock the door". So if it's open, I have as much right as anyone else to go in," she argued lightly, looking him straight in the eyes—or rather, where she thought his eyes might be looking behind those seemingly-opaque frames.

"Is that so," he drawled, tilting his head slightly to the side as if he was looking at some unsolvable puzzle. She nodded once firmly and he let out a chuckle before vanishing into thin air. She looked all around her as the wispy tendrils of his laughter melted into the night before shivering again, this time more openly. He really creeped her out sometimes; he was just too inhuman to believe. Part of her couldn't wait until she let off the same vibes of sensual darkness. Part of her never wanted to end up like him.

* * *

><p>Seras lay in the relative safety of her coffin-bed, listening to her own breathing. She was slowly branching out her psyche, trying to reach all the way to her master's mind down the hall without giving herself away. She could always pretend that she was "practicing", but she really didn't want to raise any more red flags then she had to.<p>

She reached the lowest level of the basement in her mind's eye, but at the same time she felt strained. Her head began to throb and she reluctantly retreated, exasperated at her own weakness. She realized that she would have to begin rigorously practicing in order to further her mental ability; otherwise, Alucard could come up on her suddenly and she'd be dead meat. She frowned and turned over, reaching down underneath the mattress where she'd hidden the book.

For a moment, she couldn't find it and panicked. Then she felt the hard spine on her fingertips and breathed a soft sigh of relief. It was still there. She pulled it out and looked with wary disdain at the front cover. This was it; she still could not read the book and return it to the library, pretending that it didn't exist in her eyes. After this was the point of no return. She couldn't erase the knowledge that she'd gain.

Taking a deep breath, Seras closed her eyes and opened the book to the first page. The best thing about vampire sight was that you could read in bed without straining your eyes in the dark, she decided as she flipped past the table of contents. She didn't have to try and sneak a light into her coffin, which would have surely raised some questions had she been found out.

She reread the first page of chapter one, this time taking her time and really absorbing what the book was telling her. She turned the page and continued, her lips silently forming the words as her eyes moved across the pages.

"Vlad Dracula was born in the town of Sighisoara, in what was then the heart of Transylvania. He…."

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><p>Seras opened her eyes, sensing the changes in the air even before she was fully awake.<p>

"Oh, damn. I must have fallen asleep reading," she muttered, picking the book up off of her face and running a hand through her hair. She had read until the late hours of the day, becoming more and more immersed in the strange life of her master. She must have finally dropped off from sheer exhaustion. She looked down at the page and carefully placed the attached ribbon that served as a marker on top of it. Scanning the page before she closed the book, she remembered that she had stopped where he'd been at the throne of Wallachia.

Closing the book, she suddenly realized three things. One: she wasn't in her coffin. Two: she was in the bright sunshine, but she wasn't burning alive. Three: She was most definitely not in her room, although that was the last place she remembered being. She jumped up, clutching the book to her chest and scrambling out of the patch of sunlight. It wasn't hurting her eyes, but it was a little brighter than she remembered. She looked around at the rough stone walls, covered in bright tapestries and then she moved cautiously back to the window, peering outside at the gorgeous plains spread out before her. Her eyes lit up and she couldn't help but gasp at the bright splendor of it all.

"I'd forgotten how lovely the grass looked in the daytime," she sighed happily, a smile creeping onto her face. "Well, I must be dreaming, so I might as well look around." She turned and began to walk down the hall. She didn't meet a single person, so when she turned a corner and ran into a guard's chest she was rather surprised. "Oh, I'm sorry," she sputtered, rushing to straighten out his rumpled shirt. The man glared down at her, clutching his spear tightly.

"Cine esti tu? Ce afaceri ai?" the guard said roughly. She blinked at him for a moment, unsure of what to do.

"I-I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" she stammered with a small smile. The man bristled at her words and began to inch forward, his spear held out threating.

"Faci tu ameninta regele!? Din ce sat barbat, grindina?" he spat, pushing her backwards with his weapon. Raising the book up as a shield, Seras felt the blood rush from her face as her heart jumped in her chest.

"W-wait! I'm not a thief or anything! I don't suppose you have an English translator, do you?" she joked half-heartedly, her eyes flitting every which way in her new quest for an escape route. _Even in my dreams, I can't help but get into trouble! _

"Sasii te-a trimis! Eu te va trage in teapa pe sulita mea!" the guard shouted, raising his weapon high over her head. She screamed and ducked; she was ready to roll out of the way when she spotted a gleaming, spotless pair of metal boots. She paused despite herself, transfixed by her own blurry reflection in their surface.

"Ce se intampla?! De ce zgomotul?" she slowly looked up, her eyes travelling the continued layers of armor up, up, up to the top. The armor belonged to a man with a _very _familiar face.

"Master," she breathed, too mesmerized to move. Her master—Dracula, looked at her for a moment as if he didn't know what to make of her. He snapped his head up to glare at the guard, who had all but fallen on the floor in a bow.

"Aceasta fata vorbeste o limba ciudata. Am crezut ca-I trimis de boieri sasi." The guard refused to look up as he spoke. The armored prince regarded him for a terse moment before his eyes moved back to Seras, who had already clambered to her feet and stared back at him openly. After a moment she thought twice and realized that staring down a king might not be the best way to put herself in good graces and threw in a curtsey for good measure.

"Master—I mean, your Highness. I'm Seras, and I know you from the future," she rattled off, knowing now full well that no one in her dream seemed to speak English. That only made it more realistic, she decided. In the 1400s, most likely no one in Transylvania would even know about England. That would take much, much longer. "Sorry for dropping in, but since I'm dreaming it wouldn't do any good to have me killed, would it?"

"Sie verstehen?" he growled in reply. She stared vacantly at him and he laughed darkly before raising his arm into the air. She winced, but instead of a slap or a punch a hand settled in her hair and ran through the locks, tendrils catching slightly in the metal. "Ea este inofensiv. Parul ei straluceste in soare, nu-i asa?"

"Da," the guard replied, sounding a bit uncertain. The king turned to leave without another word, only looking back when it became clear that Seras was following him. He watched her for a moment before turning again, and walked three hall lengths before looking over his shoulder at her. She was trying to keep up with his long strides, wondering where he was going while still holding the heavy book in her arms.

"Vin de-a lungul atunci, mic pui. Daca intentia ta este sa urmeze," he grumbled, waving her along in front of him and pushing her ahead into a darkened room. He sat at a wooden desk and pulled a quill and some parchment to him, writing out something quietly. Seras looked around the room before taking a seat on the floor by the door and closing her eyes. It was warm in the room, with a fire blazing and candles everywhere. It felt nice.

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><p><strong>Afterword:<strong>Google Translate is your friend. Well, my friend anyway. I don't speak Romanian.

She's dreaming, of course. It's up to the reader to figure out if something else is going on, too. (laughs evilly) I can't spoon feed you guys everything, after all.

I'm too lazy to add pronunciation marks to this story. Be happy I added translations below. I'm super lazy!

**Translation:**

Guard: Who are you? What business do you have here?  
>Do you threaten the King? What village art thou from?<br>The Saxons sent you! I'll impale thee on my spear!

King: What's happening?! Why all the noise?!

Guard: This maiden speaks a strange tongue. I thought she was sent by Saxon boyars.

King: (In German) do you understand?  
>She's harmless. Her hair sparkles in the sun, does it not?<p>

Guard: Yes.

King: Come along then, little chick. If it is indeed your intention to follow me.


	3. Starving to Death

"_Police Girl_!" Seras started, jerking her head up with a small yelp as her master's voice reached an octave of impatience she'd never heard before. She gazed doe-eyed at him, clasping her hands behind her back. "Tell me, Police Girl—what did I just say?"

"Um… that listening is an indispensable tool for learning?" she tried, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Of course he knew that she hadn't been paying attention. It wasn't _all _her fault, really. Even the best teachers have a few boring lectures here and there, and Alucard had been all but preaching for over an hour by now. It didn't help that she had stayed up all day reading more of her secret book.

Alucard narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything else about her lapse. It wasn't often she did incredibly stupid things like that, so usually he spared her the punishment that would come with some of her more frequent blunders. He continued his lecture on the mechanics of walking on ceilings, waving his arms in a demonstrative manner.

Seras tried hard to listen to him—really she did—but her mind was too tired to wrap around his technical jargon and before she knew it, she was smacked so hard it felt more like a punch. She stumbled and hit the wall, sliding down it to sit in a dazed heap on the stone floor. Her master stood silently over her, his hand falling back to his side.

"I'm sorry," she apologized honestly, picking herself up off the ground and holding her head as her cheek throbbed in pain and a headache began to pound behind her eyes. "I just can't stay awake tonight. I had such vivid dreams," she faltered, wondering if she should tell him about her dream at all, or if this was something to be kept under wraps.

"Dreams?" he repeated, bending down to stare her in the face. Their eyes met and his narrowed as he took in her appearance. She couldn't help but wince slightly—she knew from a quick look in the mirror before she left her room that there were bags under her bloodshot eyes and her face was paler than normal. She was sure that there was a hand-shaped red mark on one cheek now as well. "Did you drink the blood?" he asked in a softer tone, although it was still accusing.

"Before bed?" she asked, before wanting to slap herself for such a dumb question. "Well—um, maybe not _all _of it?" she sputtered. The truth was she was starving at that point and had one full gulp before realizing what she was doing. She had thrown the rest into the toilet.

"Drink." It was a sharp command, with an undertone that promised pain should it not be obeyed. "The dreams will leave." He eyed her a moment more before turning and stalking away, his footsteps echoing in her dismal chamber. "You are useless to me tonight." And then he was gone.

She walked over to her tiny table and collapsed in the chair, rubbing her cheek gingerly and groaning to herself. She knew that he would say something like that, but truthfully she didn't want to have dreamless days. If her visions could be as real and wonderful as they were last night, with the castle and the knight and the King, then she would happily starve for more of them.

And it had been _so _realistic! She had felt the heat of the sun-drenched air, she had smelled the body odor of the unwashed men, and she'd smelled the burning wood in the fireplace. When she'd awoken, she had half expected to still be slumped against the stone wall in that medieval office. It had even frightened her just a little bit, to wake up and find that it had all been a dream brought on by extended reading before bed. She had wondered if vampires dreamed more vividly, and had been toying with the thought of asking Alucard if that was so.

But blood was supposed to take away the dreams. She wondered if he thought she had meant that she'd been kept awake by nightmares. But he hadn't made the distinction, so both good and bad dreams were kept at bay by the nourishing, disgusting fluids. If she asked him anything else about them, he would know that she hadn't been drinking the blood. And even if she _could _take a beating from him and still be brave about it, she didn't go purposely picking fights with her master.

She thought about all this as she sat in the chair and absently rocked back and forth on one of the legs, which was a tad shorter than the others. She traced patterns in the aged surface of the table, her mind turning as she tried to think of a way to obey Alucard and still have enough of a loophole to be able to further experiment with her dreams. Finally, she let out a whoosh of breath and blew her bangs out of her face before standing up and heading to the bureau.

She pulled her pajamas out of a drawer in the bottom and changed quickly, rubbing one hand over the quickly-fading mark on her cheek. By the coming night, it would be completely healed. She looked at her coffin, the mattress folded inconspicuously over the spot where she knew the book lay. If she read more tonight, would she dream again?

She decided to test it. She purposely hit the button and rolled onto her stomach, grabbing her pillow in both arms and burying her face into it. She forced her mind to relax, breathing slowly and evenly as she began to untense her muscles. She refused to think about the book, instead focusing on the blackness beyond her eyelids and imaging her mind a blank, dark slate of shadow until she fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Seras was woken by her stomach twisting into a knot. She moaned and grabbed her abdomen, pulling her knees to her chest and rocking slightly in the cramped space of the coffin. It was cramping worse than her periods had ever made her feel, and the pain ricocheted up and down her spine. She bit her lip, trying not to cry.<p>

She had just managed to fall back into an uneasy doze when she felt her bed vibrate and it began to creak and rumble as the lid lifted. Light spilled onto her mattress and she screwed her eyes shut, the brightness just adding extra pain to her overwhelmed brain.

"What are you doing still in bed?" Her master's sharp tone was crosser than normal. She wondered what time it was. More than likely, it was late enough that she'd kept him waiting, and he didn't like it when she did that. She tried to roll over to address him, but when she made a move to sit up her stomach spasmed. It felt like one of the psychotic priest's bayonets was being forced up through her intestines and twisted with every inch.

"My stomach," she managed to gasp out amid the pulsing agony in her gut. She tasted blood and knew that she had bit her lip hard enough to break the skin, but even then it was all she could do not to cry. She felt Alucard move above her and her eyes flew open in a panic. "Don't touch me!" she cried, instinctively knowing that if he tried to move her, it would be torturous.

But strong hands didn't grab or yank her. Instead, they softly prodded her stomach, and then her arms. She tried her best both to keep quiet and keep her lower lip, since biting it off wouldn't do her much good. After a few minutes of silent examination, he spoke.

"Do you know what autophagy means?" he asked quietly. Unable to speak, she shook her head. "Or perhaps marasmus?" Again, she shook her head. He scoffed quietly and moved out of sight. "In layman's terms, you've starved yourself and now you're in trouble." He appeared before her again, bending down on one knee to be level with her face. He took off his glasses and looked her in the eyes, his expression of the utmost seriousness.

"Vampires cannot survive without blood. If you don't drink, you'll wither into nothing. While we could keep you alive with spells and bindings, it would be a waking nightmare." She blinked wearily at him, feeling defeated. So he was saying that her body was beginning to turn on her.

"It's easier to drink the blood and be done with it," he assured her, holding a plastic packet before her eyes. "You can drink. Or I can force it down your throat. Either way, I'll not allow you to be such a sniveling coward that you'd rather starve than face what you are." She sniffed, carefully raising one hand to wipe at her bloody lip without moving more rib muscles than she had to. "I've treated you gently, but my patience has long ended."

_You call that gentle?_, she thought, but didn't reply. But to his credit, he didn't just shove her onto her back, instead lifting her carefully to keep her body from protesting so badly. Even so, she still bit back a cry and before they were done a strangled sob burst past her lips as she finally had no choice but to roll the rest of the way. She panted in exhaustion and he let her be a moment before lifting her head and pouring some of the blood into her mouth.

She managed two swallows before her stomach jerked violently. She pushed him away, but wasn't strong enough to do more than roll to the side and make sure nothing landed on her mattress. She threw up what she'd drank right onto his polished boots, coughing hard and gagging. She finally forced her arms to move and lifted herself up slightly to wipe her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and felt tears prick the back of her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry, feeling sorry for herself. But she forced the feeling back momentarily; she'd cry later, when she was alone again. Alucard hissed in irritation, but if he had anything to say he held his tongue. Instead, she heard footsteps outside and a moment later Walter walked in.

"You called?" he said in half-amusement, but then she heard him gasp and wondered how bad she actually looked. One night couldn't make that much difference, could it? She raised her head and saw him staring at her in unbridled concern. "What on earth?" he managed to ask.

"My fledgling is very ill," Alucard informed him, as if he was oblivious to how obvious is was. Still, as Seras burped slightly and tried to hold back from dry-heaving, she couldn't help but feel a little better at his claim. Even if she did puke on his shoes, he still called her his.

"I'll return in a moment for her. Feed her this." He handed Walter the blood packet before turning to look over his shoulder at Seras. "You did not drink very much last night," he said knowingly. She nodded. "Sip it, then," he ordered, jerking his head at the packet in Walter's hand. "Drink it slowly." Then he glided out of the room, completely composed and commanding despite the bloody mess dripping from his feet.

"Miss Victoria," Walter said softly as he knelt by her, avoiding the puddle of bile. "How could you let yourself get this bad?" She shook her head weakly and he helped her flip back over, holding her still as she braced against the pain and then lifting her head the same way Alucard had done before.

"Didn't know," she wheezed. "Sorry." Walter shook his head, his mouth a thin line. He put the packet down and stroked her sweaty bangs out of her eyes before patting her head gently. She smiled at his grandfatherly tending before obediently opening her mouth and letting him tip a little of the blood at a time into it.

Now that she was able to measure out her sips, her stomach didn't turn as hard as before. It churned and bubbled and felt terrible, but she fought against it and kept opening her mouth for more. The blood was briny and thick in her mouth and slid slimily down her throat. It tasted like metal and it left her teeth coated in a way that made them feel strange when she rubbed her tongue against them.

But the more she ate, the less she thought about how nasty it was. She even managed to distance herself from it, pretending that it was the tomato soup her mother used to feed her when she got the flu as a child. Rotten, salty tomato soup.

Alucard walked back in after a moment, a bulky folded object in his hands. She stared uncomprehendingly at it until he unfolded it and she realized it was a thick blanket. She wondered if he meant to cover her up in it. He walked around the table to stand at her head, looking appraisingly at the packet.

"You've eaten half," he announced. "That's enough for now. We don't want Walter to have to clean himself up." She grimaced at his words as Walter chuckled and placed the blood off to the side. Alucard said something softly to the retainer, who nodded and grabbed the tail end of the blanket. They scooped her up in it and her stomach decided to stay behind on the bed. She held her breath, commanding herself to not throw up again. It was hard.

Once she was bundled tightly, Alucard grabbed her knees from Walter and turned to leave the room. "Pack it as full as you can with soil. She'll need as much as she can get." Walter bowed and waved to Seras as Alucard ferried her from her room. Her mind jumped to the book and she pushed her chin around Alucard's shoulder to call back to Walter.

"Walter, under the mattress," she started faintly, her eyes wide. She didn't want her master to find out, but Integra's rules had been explicit. If anything happened to that book, it'd be her head. And being covered in dirt wasn't a good thing for an ancient text.

Walter caught her meaning and nodded dutifully, giving her a smile and lifting up the side of the mattress to see what she was referring to. She watched him until the doorway forced her to turn her head back around and then she was being carted off down the hallway. She felt a sense of déjà vu from Cheddar Village, where she'd been turned into a vampire. She'd been too weak to walk, and Alucard had been forced to carry her back to Hellsing like an invalid.

She watched the rooms pass by at a frightening speed, the hallways growing dimmer and more unkempt as he walked. She knew from the change in temperature that he was taking her to the deeper sublevels of the basement, where the old foundation from the original Hellsing manor still stood. She had read about the renovation in one of the old library books, and you could still see the line where the old stone and newer foundation met.

She grew steadily on edge as he walked her down to where the lights overhead were few and far between. Most of them were busted and hadn't been replaced, and she knew that the few that did stay lit were for Walter's benefit. She didn't need electric lights to see in these dank corridors; neither did the ancient being carrying her.

Finally, they arrived at the last door, which had been left open. Seras stared at its gaping maw, looking out of place in the narrow tunnel. She knew it was her master's bedchambers, but she'd never been in them. If she even dared to venture this far into the basement, he always met her with prying questions about what she was doing.

But now she was being carried through the door. She heard the flick of a switch and looked up in surprise as electric lights flickered on overhead, although they were highly overshadowed by the large, rectangular windows that were cut into the top of the room. The chamber itself was cavernous and she saw the crisscrossing beams that helped support the foundation high above her head against the ceiling.

She looked all around, drinking in the atmosphere of a room she'd previously only imagined. She was surprised by how… _normal_ it looked. For Alucard, she had envisioned a sort of treasure chamber, with her master as the dragon guarding his spoils. But if he had treasure, he'd hidden it well.

Instead, a single chair sat in the middle of the room like an odd sort of centerpiece, its arms and high back gilded and upholstered in what looked like velour. Beside it a rolling tray sat, a bottle waiting patiently on its tiny top. A bureau of the same shape and size as the one that had come with her bedroom sat tucked away in a corner.

He turned slightly and she saw his coffin. It was completely unlike her big, bulky, automated contraption. It was an ordinary coffin, but it was polished and ornate. Long, slender, and dark as the owner's shadows, it cast a gloomy look on the otherwise dull ambiance. She saw some curled, calligraphic writing on the front but it was too small to read from where she lay in his arms. It didn't help that his shadows pulled back the lid and it was hidden from her as the coffin exposed its crimson silk interior.

He lay her neatly in the coffin, and she felt the silk give way and the dirt underneath cushioned her slightly. She looked up in confusion at him and he frowned down at her.

"You will stay here until Walter and the others can prepare your coffin to my standards," he explained icily. "Do not move." He then turned and walked away, his shadows replacing the coffin's lid and shutting her inside. She made a small sound of disappointment: if she gained her strength back, she had planned on sitting up and looking at the room some more. It was unlikely that she would ever see it again.

Alucard's coffin was narrower and stuffier than what she was used to. She began to feel a little claustrophobic inside, but that slowly ebbed as she wiggled in her coarse blanket and realized that she had a bit of room to move about in if need be. The soil had a different smell that she wasn't used to: musty and ancient, but at the same time fragrant with an exotic sort of spicy scent. She sniffed appreciatively, reminded of old tales about spice traders and faraway places that frequented her storybooks.

Her stomach was still twisting in pain, but the pulsing agony had died down to a dull throbbing as her natural healing powers took over with renewed energy from her scanty meal. She closed her eyes and carefully wiggled down into the blanket, starting to like the stuffy warmth. It was almost like having body heat again. Her last thought before she drifted to sleep was a question of whether vampires slept in coffins because of that very thing.

* * *

><p>She awoke briefly and sleepily realized that she was being carried again, and she closed her eyes and let the rocking motion sooth her. She leaned against the broad chest of her conveyer, enjoying the feel of the luxurious, soft cloth beneath her cheek. She listened to the deep, even breathing and had almost dozed off again when she felt her stomach drop as she was placed onto a sturdy surface.<p>

She didn't bother opening her eyes, knowing that she must have been in her coffin. The smell of freshly-turned earth accosted her nose and she breathed a deep, content sigh. She turned her head to the side and let the soil pillow her cheek, drawing energy from its smell, texture, and something raw that could only be described as the power of nature. It was loamy English soil, _her_ soil.

Her conveyer, whose scent was a mix of her master's zesty aroma and Walter's calming fragrance which made identifying him difficult, laid a hand on her forehead briefly. She wished for a moment that everyone in Hellsing didn't wear gloves all the time—if the hand had been burning with heat, she would have known it wasn't Alucard. His touch was a normal temperature to her now, although in the chapel his mouth had been cold to the point of unpleasantness.

After a moment the hand lifted before briefly stroking her cheek and disappearing completely. The light vanished and she relaxed, knowing that now the lid was closed and nothing else would intrude upon her peaceful slumber.

* * *

><p>When she once again awoke, she immediately felt the change in her body. No pain, no twisting pressure; the blood had done its work. She still felt terribly weak, but at least she was able to roll onto her side without choking back a scream. The dirt around her moved and she looked at her arms with disgust. She was filthy.<p>

Without warning, light flooded her eyes and she groaned, holding a dirty forearm over her forehead. She expected to hear her master's even voice, but instead a feminine tone made her open her eyes and lean up slightly.

"Sir Integra," she choked, her throat parched. She even half-considered asking for a drink, but now that she wasn't necessarily dying the blood was once again repugnant. The woman looked down at her, nose snarling slightly at what she saw.

"Miss Victoria," she greeted. "I hope we're feeling better?" Seras shrugged and nodded at the same time, resting her palms on her thighs. Sitting up had apparently taken a lot out of her. A sound crinkled and she turned automatically to see another medical packet being offered to her. She wilted slightly at the sight but obediently took the packet, turning it over in her hands and feeling the smooth plastic beneath her fingers.

"What bothers you about it?" The question was abrupt and it startled the younger blonde slightly. She looked up at her serious employer and sighed.

"I feel… it's just that—it's so _inhuman_." She looked sadly at the packet. "I know I need it to survive, and both Master and Walter have told me that it's fine, but even so every time I look at it I feel disgusted." Sir Integra sat quietly for a moment.

"You say you're disgusted," she said musingly. "But humans also drink blood. They have for centuries, as part of remedies and rites." She tilted her head, her blue eyes also locked on the blood packet. "And the dignified eat their meat tartare, after all. Not to mention all the times you never even thought about what you were doing. You've sucked the blood off paper cuts before; everyone does."

"Yes, but…." Seras stared down. "This is different."

"How so?" Sir Integra asked. "It's not all that different." Seras didn't reply, and after another long moment she stood from her kneeling position and made her way out of the room. "I'll leave you alone to dine and shower. I had only come to tell you that your book was in my safekeeping until your coffin was clear of the extra earth. So you don't have to worry about where absentminded Walter stuck it."

Seras nodded even though the woman was already out of sight. Of course Walter would have come to Sir Integra about the book: she hadn't told anyone she had it, not even him. It was one of those things that were more easily hidden than shared. She secretly was relieved that Sir Integra kept it. It made things easier for her.

She smiled at the open doorway before staring back at the blood packet in her hand. Her stomach twisted, although this time in repulsion and not pain. She sighed and stood up, her knees knocking slightly as her body protested. No matter what she felt like in her mind, her body was still convalescing. It frightened her, that a few weeks of denying herself blood could produce such a change. She had been perfectly fine when she lay down to sleep, but it had all gone downhill so fast.

"It's not the same," she declared quietly, taking a cautious step out of the coffin and making her way slowly to the adjoining bathroom. She ran her hand along the edge of the table and the single chair on her way, holding it as a guard in case she fell. She reached the bathroom and opened the door, surveying herself in the long, narrow mirror that had been bolted into the inside wood.

"It's not the same at all," she repeated, telling her dingy reflection. The reflection mimicked her, caked in dirt and holding a blood packet in its hand. "I don't get paper cuts anymore. I've never eaten anything tartare in my life, and I certainly have never been in any rites." She frowned and looked at her ragged features, visible even under the layer of filth. "But I don't ever want to go through that again in my life."

The reflection didn't reply, but the pained expression on its face was enough for Seras. She sighed and used the edge of her thumbnail to rip open the packet. The sharp tang of blood hit her nose and she sniffed in delight before realizing what she was doing. Her innards cringed and a wave of nausea ran through her body.

She licked her lips, spitting out dirt and raised the packet like a toast to the mirror. "To my health," she firmly stated before closing her eyes and holding her nose, her free hand tipping the plastic back to let the blood fall into her mouth. _Don't think just swallow—don't taste it, don't think about it_….

She blindly swallowed, choking all the fluid down before shuddering and wrinkling the packet in her fist. Cold chills rattled up and down her spine and she hissed, loathing the feeling. How was it that she felt like this every time, but ever other person in the building apparently didn't think twice about someone drinking blood? It wasn't fair!

"Very good, Miss Victoria!" a voice cheered. She turned and saw Walter grinning, nodding his approval at the empty packet. "You finished it all." Seras nodded and crossed her arms, hoping the dirt on her face hid her blush.

"Yes, I—how long do you think before my body is back to normal?" she asked him suddenly as he moved to look at the dirt-filled coffin. Walter hummed pensively and turned back to look at her warily.

"You really should drink blood _every_ day from now on," he admonished, guessing her underlying meaning. "But if you're diligent, you'll be fine in a week or so." He gave her a meaningful glance and then dismissed the subject, instead pointing at the coffin. "This will be completely clean by dawn. I'm sure Sir Integra told you that she's got your book for safekeeping, hmm?" he asked. Seras nodded.

"Yes, she came by earlier in the night. She surprised me." Walter chuckled and shook his head.

"I suppose she did. It's not often she ventures out of her office, and especially not this far. It's rare to see her wandering around." He smiled, more sadly. "She's such a busy woman," he explained. "I do wish she'd settle down a little. She'll run herself into an early grave."

"Staying active will make her a spry old woman," Seras argued. Walter arched a brow.

"And you would know this?" he countered. Seras shrugged.

"I think I heard it somewhere before. Besides, a body at rest tends to stay at rest, doesn't it?" she teased. Walter sighed and waved her reply off with his hand. She caught a whiff of his scent and a blurred memory came back to her. "Walter, did you bring me back to my room this morning?" she asked him. The older man blinked at her in surprise.

"No, I didn't," he admitted. "After we finished with your soil, Alucard told me that he'd take care of the rest. I had assumed he'd bring you back to your bed." His brow knitted. "He had to; all the other men left with me. I'm sure of it."

"It's nothing, Walter," she said quickly, before he could get worked up. "I think I was mistaken. Thanks, though." The man began to wave his hand again, but before he could she had him wrapped in a tight hug, her arms around his thin waist. He froze, but to her surprise he returned her hug. "Thanks for everything," she whispered in his ear. "I mean it."

"Well, er—don't worry, Miss Victoria," he said hesitantly. "Taking care of you is my purpose. I'll do it as long as I am able." She released him and stepped back, secretly amused at how flustered he looked. She smiled as he gave her a short bow before leaving the room. She laughed quietly, realizing how much she'd grown to love the butler in such a short amount of time. He was so kind and gentle; it was hard _not _to love him.

She turned to head for the showers, scratching her cheek and getting dirt under her nails. Being filthy was beginning to drive her crazy, and she was pretty sure she'd drooled sometime in the night.

* * *

><p>True to his word, Walter had the dirt cleared out of her coffin in an hour. She'd gone for some target practice and had come back to find her coffin polished inside and out, with new sheets and a generally fresh, neutral scent that meant the earth underneath her mattress's springs had been replaced as well. She had immediately fallen face first into the bed, smelling the sweet scent and sighing in happiness. Coffin or not, clean sheets were the physical manifestation of happiness.<p>

She ran back upstairs to get her book from Sir Integra, and after practically falling down the stairs on her way back she curled up with the text under her pillow for later in the morning. She relaxed, lounging on the bed for a quick catnap before getting up for her pajamas. She didn't have a mission tonight, and Alucard hadn't shown his face either.

She didn't know how she'd feel, seeing him after the incident the previous night. Jumping into bed with a clean pair of pajamas hanging baggily from her frame, she kicked her legs absently up and down on the mattress as she thought. She wasn't embarrassed, per say, that he'd seen her like that and that he'd carried her. It was more a lack of knowing _what _to say about it that had her anxious. Expressing gratitude would be awkward; he'd only done what he was supposed to do—her instincts told her that much. Playing it off as nothing would be strange too, because it was clearly more than nothing. She'd disobeyed and had ended up paying the price in a horrid way.

Even so, she wondered if he'd say anything about it. She finally decided to refrain from bringing it up in conversation unless he did. Nodding to herself in satisfaction, she found the remote and lowered her bed's lid, staying perfectly still as she descended into darkness.

She pondered simply going to sleep, but her mind kept jumping to the book lying beneath her cheek under the pillow. She hadn't dreamed in her pain, although whether from blood or just being weak she didn't know. Would she dream tonight, even though she had drank? Only one way to find out….


End file.
